by S D Wasley
“I believe it is in my home region. Probably in my town. The dialect in which the voices spoke was local.”
“Where might you hear carol singing at Christmas? Do you have public carol singing, or maybe local churches?”
“Yes, there are two cathedrals in our area, Cathedrale Saint Augustin and Basilique Notre Dame. Both provide a nativity service each year.”
“That narrows it down,” I said, my hope rising. “Can you think of any reason there might be a fire at one of those churches?”
“An accident of some kind?” Léon thought for a moment. “Arson? A gas leak?”
“A bomb?” I hazarded. “Terrorists, maybe?”
“My town is not a major city. It’s a quiet place. I don’t think it would be a target for terrorism.”
“What does Owen think about the premonition? Does he have any ideas?”
“I have not told Owen. I do not believe any of Cain’s group would be able to help. But you, Francesca. You might.”
“Do you mean by helping you put together your visions?” He nodded, his expression eager. “I’m really not sure I’ll be able to help. I might be able to if I had something to read or look at but I don’t.”
“If I could make notes, attempt contact with any of my group and ask them to record their prophecies, would you look at them for me?”
“Of course, but please remember I don’t know the area where you live. I know my town―Augur’s Well. That’s why I am good at helping put together the information our group gathers. I don’t think that’s a transferrable skill.”
“You think you have this skill simply because you know your town? Haven’t the others in your group also lived here for many years and also know this town? But they cannot do what you do. Please understand that you have a gift, Francesca,” Léon finished, looking deep into my eyes.
His gaze was hypnotic. He reached out and moved a piece of my hair away from my face, resting his palm on my cheek for a moment.
“You are special, Francesca,” he told me, his green eyes full of a strange yearning.
After the initial shock I pulled away and jumped up, hurrying over to Albion. I didn’t like the way my heartbeat had bumped into high gear and warmth coursed through my veins when he touched me.
“Can we leave?” I murmured into my cousin’s ear.
Albion appraised my face. “Hmm. Léon McHottie-Hot made his move, did he? Not welcome?”
I shook my head firmly. “I want to go home.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. He just touched my face.”
“Is that so bad? Just say you’re taken and no thanks.”
“Alby,” I pleaded.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “It will take me a few minutes to get Ethan organised. I might be able to get us a lift home so we can avoid the bus.”
“Thanks.”
I went to the bathroom, washed my face and steeled myself before joining Léon at our table again.
“Francesca,” he said, more businesslike now. “Is it time to leave?”
“Yes,” I said. “Albion’s getting us a lift back.”
“Are you driving to the meeting place under the ruin tonight?”
“I’ll drive out a bit later. I think I need to sober up a little.” I didn’t meet his eyes.
“I wish to get myself a local SIM so I will take a train back to Owen’s place. Will you direct me to the train station?”
I explained how to get to the central station with no small amount of relief. Léon gave me a long glance as he rose to depart but said nothing. Deeply uneasy, I watched him leave.
****
It was an unpleasant, boozy ride in the back of Ethan’s sedan with his half-drunk kitchenhand and waitress, while Albion laughed and flirted with his boyfriend in the front. I went straight to my room when we got home and sat on the bed, messaging Cain to say I would be a little late. I told myself this was an overreaction but my response to Léon’s momentary touch had left me unsettled. It wasn’t in the same league as the response Cain evoked in me but I didn’t like that I had reacted at all. I clutched the edge of my bed, trying to clear my mind, but kept remembering Léon’s eyes with their strange, sad apprehension as he told me I was special. Once again, my heart quivered as though strummed.
Helen messaged me to say she had to bring Patrick to our nightly meeting because her mum was sick again. She tried to assure me she wouldn’t make a habit of it but I didn’t see that she had much choice if her grandmother had to keep taking her mother to the hospital. I didn’t mind anyway. The boy was sweet, even if what had happened in that small dark antechamber was creepy.
I drank a load of water to flush the wine of out my system and attempted to study for a while, distracting myself. When darkness fell, I headed out to pick up Helen and her brother. Patrick played his bee game in the back seat and Helen chattered about her day as I drove. She looked happier than I’d ever seen her. Perhaps she had more of a sense of purpose now she was part of Cain’s group.
“How’s your mum?” I asked.
Her face fell. “Not so great. Worse than she’s been for a while. The doctors are talking about dialysis.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I worry about Grandma, too. She seems so tired all the time.”
“It must be really hard to see your own daughter so ill.”
“Yeah. And she does everything she can to help her get better. On her way home from work she always stops at the natural spring on our old farm to collect fresh water for Mum. Every single night. She was born on that farm and raised my dad there, too. She swears by the spring water. Reckons that’s what kept us all healthy for all those decades. Sometimes I wonder if it’s the only thing keeping Mum alive.” She laughed weakly as though she were worried I’d consider the idea corny. “I’ve never known anyone who works as hard as her. She starts at seven in the morning at the stockfeed factory and goes till four in the afternoon. Then she comes home and helps me cook dinner and get Patrick organised for bed. It’s crazy. She never rests. And now I’m going out nights, she’s stepping up to mind Mum and Patrick while I’m away. And actually encourages me to go out! She says it’s good for me to get out and I’m too young for all these responsibilities.”
“Wow.” I was impressed. “Do you ever get any help from anyone else?”
“There isn’t really anyone else.”
“You’ve got a lot of crap to deal with, Helen.”
She smiled. “You said it. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do if she dies.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “My uncle’s a doctor,” I tried. “Maybe your mum could see him for, you know, a second opinion or something?”
“Doctor Caravaggio, right? That’s her doctor.”
“Oh. Well, he’s great. I’m sure he’s doing everything he can for her.”
“Yeah, he’s a good guy. He’s been our family doctor since I was a kid.” She was silent for a moment, musing. “When I quit college I hoped it would only be for one semester. I thought Mum might get better if I was around to help her with Patrick and the housework and stuff. But she just keeps getting worse. It’s kind of selfish but I keep thinking, what if she does die? Not just because I’ll miss her but also because I’ll be stuck looking after Patrick, like being a mother to a seven year-old when I’m only eighteen” Helen sneaked a look at me. “I know I’m horrible to think that.”
“You’re not. At all.” I had tears in my eyes and was glad it was too dark for her to see. “I understand what you mean. I wouldn’t want that either.”
“I just wish there was something any of us could do to help her get better.” She stared at the road ahead. “I’d give anything.”
Chapter 6: Regressus
Helen and I helped Patrick down the ladder and I secretly worried that her leg would come loose again as she descended before me. However, she made it down without any problems.
“Hey,” Cain said, his face lighting up
when we stepped into the room.
When he pulled me into his arms it was like the fissure in my world from that crazy outing with Léon closed over. Léon and Owen were already there, alongside Jude and Nadine. We only had to wait for Liz. I didn’t look at Léon much but Nadine was even more fascinated by him than the night before. She monopolised his conversation. Other than that the night went on as usual once Liz arrived. Léon watched in avid fascination as she and Helen described and recorded their visions. Helen’s vision showed a woman walking a blue pram along a footpath and a man lighting a candle. Liz had seen a more detailed vision than usual: a jogger in an exercise outfit, somewhat overweight, stretching at a park under light drizzle. He started his run but something alerted his attention and he stopped, frowning at an event or person outside of the range of Liz’s vision. He shifted stance as though readying himself for some kind of impact.
“Rain, footpaths, a park,” I said. “It’s the Market Lake incident again.”
“It’s got to be something to do with the kids,” Cain said. “The boy in the hoodie and his buddy.”
Léon asked about the Market Lake visions and Nadine explained the background. Liz read through the ledger, running over the notes she’d taken to give Léon the whole picture. It clicked together in my head as she recounted the details.
I sat up straight. “They’ve lost something in the water. Something important.”
Léon looked at me, his face eager. “What could they have lost?”
“It must be valuable. They’re arguing over it, according to what Nadine saw. There’s a conflict, maybe over one of them having dropped it into the water. I wonder if whatever it is doesn’t belong to them. Or maybe they’ll get in trouble for having lost it, whatever it is.”
“Why do the visions show other people, too?” Helen wanted to know. “I mean, whatever’s going to happen will probably happen to the little boys, right? So why do we see other people around them?”
I expected Owen to furnish her with an answer but there was a silence.
“You don’t always,” I said in a small voice. I didn’t want to come across like I had all the answers. “But if the boys have lost something important, maybe there will be a consequence of the loss. I’m guessing the other people will witness that consequence.”
Jude gave a frustrated sigh. “We need more information about the timeframe. This one’s getting closer. Almost all Liz and Helen’s last few visions have included Market Lake and those kids.”
“It’s going to rain tomorrow,” I recollected. “I heard it on the radio.”
“Keep tomorrow free,” Cain told us and we all nodded although it was plain he was talking mainly to Jude, Owen, and Nadine.
Léon leaned forward into our circle. “I can help, too.”
There was a long, disconcerting silence. Nadine gave Cain a glower and he nodded at last. “Yes, all right.”
Little Patrick had stopped playing his game a few minutes before. He removed his headphones and sat munching chips as he looked around the room. I’ll keep an eye on him this time, I decided. I didn’t want him vanishing again. I went cold when I remembered the ‘Wall. Talk’ episode and glanced at the darkened corridor.
“It could be a drowning.” Nadine was still thinking about the Market Lake scene. “Maybe one of the kids tries to go in after whatever they’ve dropped and hurts himself, can’t get out or something. He might get caught under the water.”
Patrick didn’t seem fazed by the conversation but I got worried anyway. He could hear what we were saying without his headphones to muffle our voices or a game to distract him, and hearing this sort of talk couldn’t be good for a child of his age. I shuffled over so I was close to him and pulled out my phone.
“Hey,” I said to cover the discussion behind me. “Have you got Cow Train in your games? I can’t get past level nine.”
I pulled up a game I hadn’t played since my days on tour with Dad. I showed it to Patrick, rolling over onto my stomach, deliberately facing away from the rest of the group to attempt to pull him out of the death-and-destruction brainstorming going on behind us. He moved closer and fixed his sunglassed gaze on my screen, munching chips in an unperturbed manner. I successfully leaped a few cows from one train carriage to the next. His interest grew.
“This is the bit I can never get,” I said and made the leap. I missed as usual. Patrick blinked. I retried the level a few times with the same result. “No good,” I said with a laugh. “Do you play Cow Train, Patrick?”
I didn’t expect an answer but to my surprise he said, “Bees.”
“Just Buzzy Bees, huh? That game’s addictive. My sister plays it, too.”
When I said the word sister Patrick’s eyes went to Helen. I followed his gaze but Helen was too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Léon, however, stared over at me and Patrick with an indefinable look on his face. Maybe he was surprised to see I’d removed myself from the group discussion. He might think it inappropriate, that I should be focused on what we were doing. I turned away. Screw that. I could catch up on the discussion later. I wasn’t about to expose this kid to more violence and bloodshed than we already had, no matter how little he appeared to take in.
We sat together on a mattress and played our phone games. Patrick was more interactive than I thought. He wordlessly offered me a look at his screen each time he hit a new high score. Every so often he paused his game to watch me jump my cows for a few minutes. As the evening wore on, as well as the discussion of rescue attempts, successes and failures, Patrick grew tired. He lay his fair head down on the mattress and fell asleep. I closed down his game device and shrugged out of my jacket so I could cover his bare arms. Helen noticed him as I re-joined the group.
“Thanks, Frankie,” she said with a smile. “You’re really good with him!”
“He’s a nice little guy,” I said.
Léon’s eyes were on me again with that intrigued expression. I evaded his gaze. Take your judging elsewhere.
When everyone left I remained with Cain. He seized me in a hug like he’d been suffering under his self-restraint until that moment. I filled up with the warm, steady flow of happiness I always felt when I was alone with him.
“Did you have a good day?” he asked. “Where did you go? Did you go out with Helen?”
I was puzzled. “No, I went out with Alby. I messaged you, remember? He took us to a bar after the museum.”
“Oh ...” Cain looked dazed for a moment and regarded me with an odd look on his face. “Oh. I thought Albion took Léon out. I didn’t realise all three of you went together.”
“Alby had tickets for me and him but he had a spare so he asked Léon to join us. It was really good actually. Léon told me some stuff about Druids and how they had psychic excursions into this place they called the Otherworld.” I was gabbling. I realised, too late, it made me sound guilty. Cain watched me, his expression still impossible to decipher. “What?” I demanded.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I stared at the floor. “Can’t I go out and chill for the afternoon?”
“Of course you can.”
There was hurt in Cain’s face and I relented immediately. “Sorry. Sorry about being weird. I have to admit I felt kind of awkward about Léon turning up at my place and I thought you might not like it either. But he’s an interesting person, and he really seems to think I have something to offer the group.”
“You doubted that?” Cain sighed when I shrugged. “How many times do I have to tell you we need you before it sinks in?” He paused. “We should take Léon out, you and me. Show him some sights.”
Uh, right. I was non-committal. Something about the thought of being out with Léon and Cain together nearly made me laugh. Or panic.
“Maybe after our date,” I said with a grin. “If it ever happens.”
“It will happen,” he said firmly. “Next Sunday, you’re mine for the day, okay?”
I nodded. “I know you’re working a
t the park tomorrow but how about I come spend a couple of hours with you?”
He looked surprised. “You want to hang out with me while I work?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be boring.” Despite his words, Cain’s eyes were hopeful.
“I don’t care. I like just hanging out with you.”
A smile lit up his face. “Then hell yes! I’d love to have you there.”
****
“What are you doing today?” Albion handed me a cup of tea after Antonia’s Sunday morning cooked breakfast. “Seeing Léon McHottie-Hot again?”
“No.” That sounded more emphatic than I’d intended.
Albion raised his eyebrows. “Well, well. Ethan and I are driving out to check out the progress on the Marie-Celeste café.”
I was glad of the change of subject. “Nice. It looks like it’s happening quickly.”
“Yes, they’re trying to show the world this development is the real deal, I think.”
“Still feels weird that our little town is getting such a big brand name café. Grace Creek Property Company must have a lot of faith in how many buyers their new housing estate is going to pull.”
Albion nodded. “I’ll be spending half my life there, I reckon. Especially now Ethan’s got a job in the café.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“Yes, they’re already hiring. He’s going to be the head chef.”
“Awesome.”
“He’s trying to get something for Vanessa, too.”
I checked Albion’s face to see if he was being serious. “She doesn’t really need a job.”
“I know that,” he said with a laugh. “But she’s super keen. Craving independence, maybe.”
For a moment I experienced an odd kind of guilt, contemplating how Vanessa and I flourished away from Dad’s continual surveillance. It was so much easier to live and breathe without him around. I never noticed how tight a hold he had on us while we toured until we were out from under his supervision.
I stared absently at the coffee table where Albion’s dream symbols book still sat. It triggered a thought: I’d had the dream again last night. The memory came to me like an unpleasant shock. This time the disembodied hands had come through the wall and caught at my own hand, holding it tight while I struggled to get away.